


First Christmas

by tatooedlaura



Series: Christmas [1]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 14:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: Did she even want to celebrate this year?





	

Her father loved Christmas. When he was home, he woke them up with Christmas music played at full volume, singing booming carols as he cooked breakfast, decorated the house, put up lights outside. He may have been stern the rest of the year but throw a little holiday cheer his way and he was yours for the duration.

Every year, he bought each of his children an ornament for Christmas. He would have them on the tree, there name painstakingly written on the bottom and the year, for them to find Christmas morning. Once they’d moved out and taken their collections with them, he continued his practice, either mailing the decorations or, in Scully’s case, he’d slip it on her small, artificial tree wherever he visited wherever she was living at the time, be it a dorm, with a roommate or on her own.

Sitting on her couch, lights dim, television off, radio silent, she debated with herself whether to put up a tree at all this year. She’d managed to wrestle the tree box from the hall closet and now it sat mocking her in the middle of the living room, ornament container beside it, filled with memories she wasn’t sure she could deal with this year.

After 20 minutes of painful debate, her depression won out and standing to shove the boxes back in the closet, she stopped when she heard a rapping on her door, two knocks then one.

Only Mulder would have a special knock, like she was the clubhouse and he was the newest member.

“Hey.”

As he pushed past her, she followed him with her eyes as she shut the door, confusion pushing one eyebrow skyward, “What’s up?”

“I am locked out of my apartment. I thought I grabbed my house key when I left for my run but I didn’t.”

Thinking about the whistling winds blowing past her window, she looked at him, studying him unconsciously for signs of frost-bite, “did you run over here? In this cold?”

Pulling his stocking cap off and stuffing it into his pocket, “Naw. Used my Hide-a-Key to get my car key and drove over here to get my house key.”

Now she smiled, “why don’t you have a Hide-a-Housekey thing, too.”

“I have you instead.” Giving her his best, tooth-glinting grin, “so, what are you up to this fine, frigid evening?” She was going to claim laundry but his sharp eyes caught the tree box, “oooh, Christmas decorating. Need any help?” Shifting from one foot to the other, she hesitated a moment too long with her answer and Mulder’s face fell, “or not. I don’t mean to intrude.” Pulling his hat back out, he gave her a smile that told her he wasn’t annoyed, “my mother never let us help with the tree. She always said it was her thing to do alone.”

He looked so genuinely pitiful that she heard herself telling him, “no, it’s okay. I just …well, actually, I was debating putting it up at all. With dad gone …”

Mulder cut her off, hand going automatically to her arm, lightly gripping her elbow, “oh, crap. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”

Reaching, she took his hat and stuffed it back in his pocket, “but I changed my mind. Stay and help me figure out where to put it. What do you think, by the window there or over by the fireplace, closer to the door?”

They had only been together for a little over a year but he knew her well enough to know she was full of crap, however, given he wasn’t a soulless bastard, he let it go, “I like it by the window, myself. Then the lights reflect of the glass and it looks pretty cool.”

“Then by the window it goes. If you want to start getting the tree pieces out, I’ll move things around.”

Doing the tiniest of step hops at he turned towards the box, he rubbed his hands together, “Christmas!”

&&&&&&&&&&

After the third time Mulder poked himself in the eye and Scully couldn’t see straight from laughing so hard, he declared it break time. The tree, now assembled, was still naked, the lights in a giant wad of twisted insanity that Mulder took one look at and tossed at her, “you have the patience for this nonsense.”

“Then I elect you to go make the hot chocolate.”

“Anything’s better than that nightmare.” Heading into the kitchen, he yelled to her, “you got any Christmas music?”

“You don’t know me at all, do you?”

Head buried deep in the fridge, “then play me some. It’s too quiet in here.”

“You are very bossy for somebody who doesn’t have a house key right now.”

His smiling face popped up over the open door, “pretty please?”

Hauling herself from the couch where she’d just settled down, “I’m doing this for me, not you.” Soon, low holiday music filled the apartment and the pair of them were drinking cocoa, Scully also de-tangling lights while Mulder burned his tongue. “There’s steam for a reason, Mulder. It lets you know you’re going to scald your mouth.”

“One can only wait so long though, Scully.” Taking another sip, he winced, “damn it. Still too hot.”

“It’s been 8 seconds!”

“That is at least three seconds longer than I’d normally wait.” Taking the string she’d already straightened, he began hanging them, “you should be proud.”

Eventually, the tree had lights and Mulder flipped open the ornament box, staring in slight awe, “dang. This is not your run-of-the-mill, bulbs only Christmas tree, is it?” When she didn’t answer, he looked up, catching her just as she attempted to stealthily swipe off the tears that suddenly poured down her cheeks. Not sure what to do, he met her eyes briefly, then, of their own volition, his arms raised, aiming towards her with the full intention of giving her hug.

When she went from sad face to panicked face, he realized what he was doing and stopped, politely excused himself to the bathroom instead.

He wanted to hug her.

He wished he could hug her.

But what kind of line would that be crossing? And was he supposed to cross that line? Who actually decided where the line was? Did there even have to be a line?

By the time he decided it would be safe to return to the living room, not having answered any of his bathroom-concocted questions, she seemed calmer. Her face was dry, her eyes were clear and the only hint of anything wrong was her red nose, the product of swift nose-blowing with off-brand tissue resembling sand paper.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his stockinged heels, “I should probably head home. Let you decorate in peace.”

She genuinely didn’t want him to go though, “wait. Please, stay. I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable. It’s just … I mean, dad loved Christmas and he gave me a lot of these ornaments and …”

Screw the line. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turned her into him briefly, “I’d like to stay but it’s up to you.”

For an overwhelming moment, she was surrounded by that smell of his. She still hadn’t been able to figure out if it was aftershave or deodorant or soap but whatever it was, it consumed her senses and she found herself hugging him tightly around the waist while he buried her head in his shoulder, fingers at the edge of her hairline, palm cupping her skull.

Long before either one wanted to stop, they stepped back in perfect unison, both sheepishly smiling, eyes darting anywhere but at each other until Mulder chuckled, “apparently 1.5 years of partnership equals an 18-second holiday hug.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if he was serious and giving him what he already lovingly thought of as her inquisitive, ‘are you full of shit’ eyebrow, “were you counting?”

“There’s a good chance that being the psychologist I am, I did analyze the length of that hug but the sugar addict in me decided I needed to try my hot chocolate again so I broke it off.” Picking it up, he burned his lip, “dang it. Still hot.”

Laughing at him, she took his mug and began blowing on it, “you are hopeless.”

And it hit him like a fucking lightning bolt, rattling his brain and thumping his heart.

She was blowing on his hot chocolate.

She was freaking invading his hot chocolate with her peppermint breathe.

He was totally screwed.

He never thought he’d be so completely aware of the moment he fell in love with somebody.

Nearly giggling at the sudden rush of understanding but managing to remain simply smiling, “we should probably get to that tree, shouldn’t we?”

Scully tilted her head, a confused half-curving mouth showing over the edge of the mug before she handed it back to him, wondering if she should ask why he looked suddenly like the Cheshire Cat with a major secret, “here you go.”

“Thanks.”

&&&&&&&&&

Each ornament had a story and she told him a handful as they hung them up. He never asked, leaving it up to her to share or stay silent, taking the ornaments as she handed them to him, being much more careful than he ever thought he could be.

He imagined if he broke one, she’d never speak to him again and his world couldn’t handle that.

Once everything was up, Mulder slid by her and turned the living room lights off, leaving only the glow of the tree to illuminate the room. It cast a myriad of colors across her face and he couldn’t help but gaze openly, his cheeks pulling back for a smile but never quite making it, too engrossed in the vision before him to finish the expression. She noticed because, really, how couldn’t she notice him blatantly staring at her. Finally, “why do you keep looking at me like that? Blink or something so I know you’re still alive.”

He blinked slowly in her direction, then, not dissuaded by her attempt at breaking the spell, “you’re beautiful.”

It was a three second incredulous expression followed by a half-second of something more before she shook her head, blush spreading fast up her face and down her neck, “that hot chocolate went straight to your head, didn’t it?”

Reverie done for the moment, he chuckled, “yup. Happens every time.”

When he let a yawn slip a few minutes later, she touched his arm, then slid her hand up to his shoulder, patting him lightly on the back, gently turning his towards the door, “’m going to kick you out now. It’s late and we need to work in the morning.”

Without voicing any of the ten arguments for staying he had racing through his mind, he turned, pulled his coat on and said goodbye, debating another hug but not wanting to be slugged for it. After slipping out the door, she locked it behind him and was just about to turn the tree off and head to bed when he knocked.

Remembering suddenly, she glanced through the spyhole just to make sure, then pulled the door open, placing her copy of his house key in his hand, “I’ll be expecting that back tomorrow morning.”

“G’night, Scully.”

“G’night, Mulder.”

&&&&&&&&&&

The next morning, as she puttered around the living room gathering her shoes, current book, dirty hot cocoa mugs, something caught her eye. Turning towards the tree, it only took a moment to realize, an instant to smile, a second to wipe the sudden, stray tear dropping from her eye, then half-a-blink to break into a grin.

Hanging on her tree was a Santa hat wearing Alien Head ornament.

Upon examination, she found the year written on the bottom in Sharpie, Mulder’s hand unmistakable, even in four simple numbers.

She might have to yell at him for breaking into her house.

But maybe not.


End file.
